


Don't Tell Me It Will Be Okay If It Won't

by Johnlocked221b



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Caretaker Sam, Castiel/Dean Winchester Feels, Character Death, Character Undeath, Crying Dean, Dean feels guilty about something he didn't do, Depressing, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Dean, Hurt, I'm so sorry, Lots of Hurt, M/M, Sad Dean, This story is fucking sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4324257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlocked221b/pseuds/Johnlocked221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been happy; truly happy, and that was all that mattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Tell Me It Will Be Okay If It Won't

**Author's Note:**

> This story will hurt. So much. And I am so sorry. Warnings for Major Character Death, Alcoholic and Depressed Dean to the point of being almost helpless. Yeah, it's fucking sad. You might need tissues. Again, I am so sorry. You've been warned.

When Castiel died, Dean was a mess. They had been married for two and a half years and best friends since they met. The case was supposed to be simple. A clear cut-and-dry, salt-and-burn. Dean had been training him to be a hunter and Castiel was good. Real good. However, one nasty fight with a big-time demon later and his fallen angel was bleeding out in his arms. It was just a slip-up. A small mistake on Dean’s part. Despite his gut feeling telling him to keep Cas beside him, he’d let the other convince him it was better to split up to cover more ground.

That was the thought that kept Dean awake, fingers wrapped tight around the neck of a liter of Jose as he stared at the urn on the mantel. It was set among the framed photos of their sealing kiss, their silly selfie, and the three of them grinning in tuxes.

The wedding had been small considering everyone they knew was dead. Thankfully, Sherriff Jody Mills had shown up to officiate; but for the most part, it was just Dean and Castiel Winchester and little brother Sammy. Sam had happily been the best man for the both of them.  They were happy; truly happy, and that was all that mattered.

After the small ceremony, Dean had done his best to stop drinking. 50 to 100 drinks a week went down to just a small glass of wine a night and then nothing. He had a chip. One year sober.

He twirled it around between his fingers as he sipped at his whiskey, tears burning his eyes just as the alcohol burned his throat. No matter. He’d get used to it again. He took another drink and hissed through his teeth, scrubbing a hand over his face. It was three in the morning. His body called for sleep but his mind was restless. Those were the nights he’d drink until he passed out.

Castiel’s big blue eyes stared at him from the photo on the urn and Dean had to look away. He was ashamed of himself. Technically, the ashes in it were Jimmy Novak’s, but Dean considered them Castiel’s. They had been for years. That had been Cas rolling around in bed with him; Cas’ lips pressing against his, Cas’ arms around his waist, Cas’ gravelly voice talking him through his withdrawals and loving him through his relapse. It was Castiel who loved him unconditionally, even though he was sure he didn’t deserve it.

“If only you could see me now, angel.” He slurred, blinking hard. “It fucking hurts. I miss-I miss you so bad and it’s all my fault. You c-can’t be mad a’ me fer drinkin’ Cas. Who wouldn’?” He sighed and looked down. Part of him hoped Sam would come down from his room and pick him up. The bigger part hoped he wouldn’t. He didn’t want Sam to see him like this. He was disgusting. His stomach flip-flopped and he finally let out a sob, hands gripping at his own hair as the alcohol dropped to the floor beside him, sloshing and spilling out. His heart ached something awful and his stomach felt hollow. The feeling never went away. Grief so bad it had him hunched over a toilet a lot of times.

When he felt the whiskey soak his boxers, he picked up the bottle and threw it against the wall. It shattered and left a wet spot, droplets rolling down to the floor as if the house itself was crying. Dean cleared off the coffee table with a swipe of the arm, yelling out his frustration. Nothing had ever hurt this bad.

It wasn’t fucking fair! Cas was just getting used to _living._ There were still so many things he should have experienced. Having, or rather, adopting children, waking up at 2am to the sound of a hungry baby, being taken care of when he was sick with a fever, going to the beach, growing old together…

It was a life Dean was never sure he wanted but now that he’d gotten a taste of it, he would do anything to get it back. He’d tried everything. Hell, he was even content to live with Cas’ spirit…but if anyone had deserved Heaven; the ideal, paradise-version, it was Castiel.

Dean stared at the adoption request papers that were now scattered around the room, almost blankly. His eyes traced the curling ' _C'_ of Castiel’s signature and the beautiful, smooth way he wrote out Winchester…as if it were the most beautiful name in the world…as if he’d never wanted to be called anything else. His eyes lingered on the line where Dean’s would go if he had actually signed it. He regretted the hesitation…wished he’d taken he next step into the commitment he so desired now.

Mary Charlene Winchester. It was the name Castiel had come up with himself. Dean looked up at the corner of the room and through his blurred vision, he could almost see his angel (always, his angel) awkwardly cradling their new daughter, rocking her and singing some 70’s rock ballad Dean had gotten stuck in his head. Dean’s brain chose _“Total Eclipse of the Heart.”_ He could hear Cas’ voice wrapping around each syllable as they rumbled out of his throat. He could see him slightly bouncing and watching Mary’s face as she drifted into dreamland. He desperately wished it were real.

Strong arms moved under Dean’s armpits and lifted him onto shaking legs. One of Dean’s arms was draped around a wide set of shoulders and an arm was wrapped around his waist for support. “Let’s get you to bed.” The sad voice said to him, though it sounded garbled, like he was under water. He went, though, mostly because he didn’t have the energy to protest. Sam helped him up the stairs and to his own room. Dean hadn’t gone in his and Cas’ room since it happened. He couldn’t bear to see the robe draped over the chair or the spare trench coat lying on the messy just-crawled-out-of blankets or the scattered clothes from the night before that hadn’t yet made it into the hamper in their haste to love each other.

Sam lay Dean on his bed and pulled the duvet over his brother’s shoulder. Dean stared at the wall, just feeling empty, but Sam didn’t expect a ‘thank you.’ It was okay.  Dean was suffering and Sam would continue to do these kinds of things as long as he needed them done. He lay down on the sofa that had been moved into the room for this reason and watched Dean’s back in the dark. He watched his shoulders shake with another sobbing fit and then move slower as he was finally dragged under by utter exhaustion. Sam frowned and closed his eyes as well.

From a dark corner of the room, the figure of a man stood, hair fluffed and blue eyes piercing through the darkness. He watched Dean’s chest swell and sink with each breath he took, thankful that it was still doing that. He listened to the stray tears falling onto the pillow, the raspy sound of his sinuses, and the sound of a broken heart beating louder than any of it. Dean needed his rest, so for tonight, Castiel would just watch.


End file.
